I wrote this in September, I should have known…
I sit, I stand, I walk around but the minute has not changed and I still have an hour to go. I graduated from college a little over a month ago and have been in the working force for a day less than a month, and I hate it. I hate the sitting and staring at the clock, I hate that my brain continual hurts from not doing anything exciting, at all. I hate that I am confined into a small area and I hate that the people I spend the most time with now are my co-workers. I hate my job. Why is it I am forced to follow someone else’s guidelines and schedule, I am just a slave to this place, this awful place.
Maybe I’m being a little over dramatic, I work at a small weekly newspaper close to my hometown, so yes this does mean that I moved back in with mom and dad, I am not ashamed. Mom makes my lunch and cooks dinner, because I am always the last one home, but this time around I do pay bills and I am only living at home for a few years to save up money for school, oh how I miss school.
Eight hours of sitting at a desk staring at a computer is not my idea of a good time. I do enjoy the computer in relaxed settings where my every move is not monitored, but at work you have to be on guard and always aware that the boss will look to see what you’ve been doing. And as she has already told you, she owns the software that tells her every move you make on this demon of a laptop that sits at your tiny desk next to the doorway that causes you to have to move every time someone walks into the room, the joys I face five days a week.
Not to mention that last night was my breaking point, I had had it. The day was bad, not terribly bad, just not good. I couldn’t get my blasted camera to work, I finally caught up and did an online video and no one said anything yet gushed over my peer’s video, which I might add they have done every time she has made her 20 videos, sorry I was a journalism major.
Then that same peer decided to so kindly critique my writing, despite the fact that I have had many internships and went to one of the top schools for journalism, I just don’t seem to put any emotion in my articles. And the fact that I have been there for a month and was still the outsider, and never actually spoken to or invited to anything. No, nothing out of the ordinary, but on my way to a school board meeting, after work hours, driving my 40 minute commute, I lost it. And once the tears started rolling they could not be stopped. Once at the meeting I was able to wash my face with cold water and get through the incredibly boring meeting, but once in my car again the tears came. Once the floodgates are open there is no turning back.